Such beautiful ways of honouring your ancestry. I love the thought of calling in characteristics of our forebears when we need to embody them ourselves. On my maternal line we’re able to date the family tree back over a thousand years. I have a practice of sometimes calling in the women from that side by saying “I am Chloe, daughter of Rosie, daughter of Mary, daughter of Daisy, daughter of Emma, daughter of Mary” etc. etc. up the line. It always feel as though it lights something up..🌿
I am at last replying to this latest most touching post. Your thoughts and words resonated deeply with me, as I, too, wished I had asked more questions of my grandparents, who were all Italian immigrants who came here as teenagers. I spent a lot of time with them, laughing and learning mostly about how to cook, for which I am eternally grateful. I think of my maternal grandmother who taught me how to make all the traditional holiday dishes, as well as homemade pastas, and much more. She never learned to read or write, so I had to take notes as I learned so that I could remember how to create a myriad of deliciousness. My family looks forward to enjoying all of these special foods every holiday. I wish I knew more about their lives in Italy, but I am so very grateful for what I did learn and for all of the priceless times I spent with them
Lovely, my such a strong resemblance, how beautiful! My grandmother visits me in dreams, she's standing at the door to her home, opens it with a welcoming smile, and embraces me in her arms. Even though there is not an invitation from her in, the love that resonates lasts always. My mom visits me in dreams, the most recent of her as if I were looking at a series of Brassai photographs, and she's wearing a different Parisian hat in every scene, smiling, which makes me smile.
happy birthday to her - never met my Irish grandad mother's parents were always closeby reunited with dad's birthmother late in her life happy spring it snowed yesterday.
I think of my grandma, Nonna , everyday. Her name was Dominica, which means Sunday. We spent every Sunday with them. Grampa, too. Everyone called her Mini. The old timers called her Mini Goo. Some or all of my 13 cousins would be there. (13 is lucky in Italy.). She and my aunts and my ma would make pasta for all. By hand. She taught me so much and I loved her with my heart and soul. ♥️🕊️. Like you loved yours. I think of Mini Goo every day. Her and I walking to church or the store. Singing songs and knowing I was her favorite. Thank you for your memories. They are always right next to us. Love ya.
What a lovely tribute to your Grandma, she always comes across as a very special woman and you were lucky to have known her and yes l’m going to repeat how much you look like her, because you do. I love the way families interweave over the years , it’s lovely to discover. I was young when my Nana died so didn’t know as much as I’d like. I remember her arms around me, playing with her clothes and shoes and hiding in her wardrobe. Picnics in the countryside and lots of laughter. When she was in hospital they wouldn’t let me see her ( she was asking for me) at 6 l wasn’t considered old enough but I clearly remember the waiting room and playing with my little brother who was crawling under the chairs. She was called Clara and my mum loved her very much and l remember the tears and hugs.
Last night was my lovely Hatha Yoga class where we saluted to spring a perfect way to end the day. Safe travels Jesse 🙏
"Your body remembers the stories of your Grandmothers, stretching back through time. Their hearts, traumas, gifts, tenderness, folk remedies, power & songs all live within you."
Great post , as usual:) You do look uncannily like your grandmother. I would like to honor my mother today. She died at 49 but, a victim of progressive Multiple Sclerosis, she left me long before that in both body and mind. We were not like mother and child, rather siblings, She was not very demonstrative towards me either and did not express any feelings BUT we were infinitely closer than my father and I and, had she not been struck by illness, we would have have forged a closer bond. So, following from that thought, I often wonder how she would view the path I have taken and the fact that I live, not in Scotland, but NYC! I would like to introduce her to the people I know - who I know she would get on famously with - and show her around the city I have called home for 25 years this June. A medium, who I trust, told me that she was happy I was enjoying my freedom, and that sounds like her. Having lived so much of her life a prisoner to her body...that is something she would say. So, Margaret Jean Penman , born in Edinburgh on December 16 1938, died in Elgin, Scotland March 1987 (I have to look up the exact date) I salute you, and what might have been.
Happy Birthday Grandma!
You look very much like her! 🌸
Such beautiful ways of honouring your ancestry. I love the thought of calling in characteristics of our forebears when we need to embody them ourselves. On my maternal line we’re able to date the family tree back over a thousand years. I have a practice of sometimes calling in the women from that side by saying “I am Chloe, daughter of Rosie, daughter of Mary, daughter of Daisy, daughter of Emma, daughter of Mary” etc. etc. up the line. It always feel as though it lights something up..🌿
I am at last replying to this latest most touching post. Your thoughts and words resonated deeply with me, as I, too, wished I had asked more questions of my grandparents, who were all Italian immigrants who came here as teenagers. I spent a lot of time with them, laughing and learning mostly about how to cook, for which I am eternally grateful. I think of my maternal grandmother who taught me how to make all the traditional holiday dishes, as well as homemade pastas, and much more. She never learned to read or write, so I had to take notes as I learned so that I could remember how to create a myriad of deliciousness. My family looks forward to enjoying all of these special foods every holiday. I wish I knew more about their lives in Italy, but I am so very grateful for what I did learn and for all of the priceless times I spent with them
Lovely, my such a strong resemblance, how beautiful! My grandmother visits me in dreams, she's standing at the door to her home, opens it with a welcoming smile, and embraces me in her arms. Even though there is not an invitation from her in, the love that resonates lasts always. My mom visits me in dreams, the most recent of her as if I were looking at a series of Brassai photographs, and she's wearing a different Parisian hat in every scene, smiling, which makes me smile.
HAPPIEST SPRING!!! Your grandmother was very kind to me when I worked with your Uncle Todd for your Mom's band.... Have a Great Spring!
happy birthday to her - never met my Irish grandad mother's parents were always closeby reunited with dad's birthmother late in her life happy spring it snowed yesterday.
I think of my grandma, Nonna , everyday. Her name was Dominica, which means Sunday. We spent every Sunday with them. Grampa, too. Everyone called her Mini. The old timers called her Mini Goo. Some or all of my 13 cousins would be there. (13 is lucky in Italy.). She and my aunts and my ma would make pasta for all. By hand. She taught me so much and I loved her with my heart and soul. ♥️🕊️. Like you loved yours. I think of Mini Goo every day. Her and I walking to church or the store. Singing songs and knowing I was her favorite. Thank you for your memories. They are always right next to us. Love ya.
What a lovely tribute to your Grandma, she always comes across as a very special woman and you were lucky to have known her and yes l’m going to repeat how much you look like her, because you do. I love the way families interweave over the years , it’s lovely to discover. I was young when my Nana died so didn’t know as much as I’d like. I remember her arms around me, playing with her clothes and shoes and hiding in her wardrobe. Picnics in the countryside and lots of laughter. When she was in hospital they wouldn’t let me see her ( she was asking for me) at 6 l wasn’t considered old enough but I clearly remember the waiting room and playing with my little brother who was crawling under the chairs. She was called Clara and my mum loved her very much and l remember the tears and hugs.
Last night was my lovely Hatha Yoga class where we saluted to spring a perfect way to end the day. Safe travels Jesse 🙏
Tonight I have successfully removed my toxic mother from my life.
I would love Beverly to be my mama.
Little Bev, you and your family and all the right friends have saved my life tonight.
Happy Birthday, Saint Beverly 🌸
All my love,
yaya 💜
You’re grandmother has a deep space in my heart. Kindness and love. Happy Spring! 🌿🐦⬛💚
OPERATION: LOVE
Promise to be kind
Promise to be respectful
Promise active listening
Promise to practice compassion
Promise to love unconditionally
Promise to love all beings on our beloved Pachamama
Promise to love Pachamama 💜
"Your body remembers the stories of your Grandmothers, stretching back through time. Their hearts, traumas, gifts, tenderness, folk remedies, power & songs all live within you."
Great post , as usual:) You do look uncannily like your grandmother. I would like to honor my mother today. She died at 49 but, a victim of progressive Multiple Sclerosis, she left me long before that in both body and mind. We were not like mother and child, rather siblings, She was not very demonstrative towards me either and did not express any feelings BUT we were infinitely closer than my father and I and, had she not been struck by illness, we would have have forged a closer bond. So, following from that thought, I often wonder how she would view the path I have taken and the fact that I live, not in Scotland, but NYC! I would like to introduce her to the people I know - who I know she would get on famously with - and show her around the city I have called home for 25 years this June. A medium, who I trust, told me that she was happy I was enjoying my freedom, and that sounds like her. Having lived so much of her life a prisoner to her body...that is something she would say. So, Margaret Jean Penman , born in Edinburgh on December 16 1938, died in Elgin, Scotland March 1987 (I have to look up the exact date) I salute you, and what might have been.
OPERATION: LOVE
Promise to be kind
Promise active listening
Promise to practice perpetual compassion
Promise to love unconditionally
Promise to love all beings on our beloved Pachamama 💜
333
https://youtu.be/k_JnCWT-_O8?si=NbFnoZ2HH2CTvEKk
Love the palm cross by her photograph. Thank you for sharing. It is my sister Lisa’s birthday today. 🎂🥂🐑
Votre grand mère était une très belle femme 🎂